


Five Words, One Story

by ArtisticVicu



Series: RPApril Extravaganza 2019 [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Gen, Genderfluid Character, M/M, Multiple Lifetimes, Nonbinary Character, Original Character(s), Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:08:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23553571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtisticVicu/pseuds/ArtisticVicu
Summary: Be they dreams or actualcycleshe's living without them - or before them - he wasn't sure which he preferred. They all hurt and he wanted them all to end. But, then, is there really an end to all of this? Maybe if things between him and the hero finally settle, it would be enough.Event Summary:Five things that were seemingly unrelated were given as a prompt every week. The task was to take these five things and combine them into a short story each week.Continuation from previous year's event of the same name's chapters 2 and 3. Link in first chapter.
Relationships: hero/villain - Relationship
Series: RPApril Extravaganza 2019 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1695238





	1. Unnecessary Interlude

**Author's Note:**

> [First Chapter link](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23553409/chapters/56502064)

He woke slowly. Thoughts muddled together incoherently leaving him to wallow in the ache of his body. Honestly, he wished he had stayed unconscious. Everything hurt - some parts more than others - and even the thought that pulled itself from the rest of possibly feeling more pain due to waking fully was not welcomed.  
  
But no matter how he tried to bury himself back under the dark recesses of blissful unconsciousness, it slipped farther and farther from reach till he was opening his eyes and greeting the world that awaited him.  
  
The view wasn't quite what he had expected.  
  
He wasn't sure what he had been expecting as he took in the unfamiliar roof overhead. Maybe a night sky or something equally wild but it was the reason behind those expectations that eluded him. Everything was still rather muddled in his head leaving memories to be swallowed up by dreams and fantasies with no differentiating between them and reality. But at least his current reality was dry and warm.  
  
And soft, he realized. Whatever he was lying on and covered by were equal parts soft. It felt almost wrong even as it soothed some of the ache in his body.  
  
A hand came into view and with it the birthmark on the wrist.  
  
He hissed, memories suddenly tearing themselves from the muddled mess in his mind and he made to move away, to put distance between him and the person he wanted nothing to do with for the rest of the cycle.  
  
His efforts bore him nothing more than searing pain.  
  
"Easy," an all too familiar voice urged, careful hands pinning him down. "Easy."  
  
"What do you want," he spat, glaring up at a sea of **gold** that's only flaws were two islands the same color as water. He blinked and the other's features separated out, though those blue eyes still bore into him despite his cleared sight.  
  
They frowned at him. Was that a pang of guilt or pity in their expression? "For you to rest," they chided as if his comment warranted such a respond. And maybe it did - maybe he was relying on ingrained habits too hard in this situation and finding anything and everything to fight the hero with, but he was too damn tired and in too much pain to care. Despite the hero being, well, a hero, he didn't trust them to not have ulterior motives with helping him. He wondered if they knew that somehow as they sighed, shaking their head. "Just...rest, ok? You suffered some serious injuries when you hit the water at both ends and it'll take time for the healer to arrive so it would probably be best if you didn't agitate any of it by moving."  
  
He gave them a flat look even with them not looking at him. "And how, exactly, do you expect me to go however long it'll be before the healer arrives without moving? I'll still have to eat, drink, and use the restroom." His eyes narrowed, a suspicion rolling through him. "How long will it take for the healer to arrive? Hours?"  
  
The hero closed their eyes and he felt his stomach drop out as they opened their mouth.  
  
"Days."  
  
His mouth went dry.  
  
"Possibly a week." The hero let out a sharp breath and he was surprised when frustration and remorse twisted the hero's expression. The strangest part was that neither were directed at him. "I hate the limits of this cycle. A quick phone call and you'd already be at some major hospital getting proper aid for your injuries."  
  
"And exactly how bad are they?"  
  
The hero flinched. He could almost feel their breath escaping them as if he had slammed his fist into their gut. It took a moment for them to gain that breath back. The longer it took, the more numb he became to his own emotions.  
  
"If we don't get you help soon, fatal," the hero finally confessed. "And not the fast kind of fatal, either."  
  
The bitter chuckle was breathy but it still sent waves of pain through his body. Their hands on him didn't help but he didn't care to use the energy to fight them off. He was too busy shoving down the anger at having been saved and the **fear** of what kind of death he was subjected to this time. "And you're caring now because why?"  
  
The hero shook their head causing their golden hair to halo around their head. "This is different. You weren't supposed to fall."  
  
"Oh? Says who?"  
  
"Says me."  
  
It would seem he was in for numerous surprises that particular day as he rolled his eyes. "Oh please. The number of times you've met an untimely end, you haven't seen me wasting my time trying to save you."  
  
" _Neryk_ ," they tried to plead but he was already cutting them off.  
  
"How many times do I have to tell you to not call me that, _Kyren_ ," he spat. He paid for it with a spasm of pain but it was worth it, even if all it did was make them chuckle. Not his intent but he much preferred it to the self deprecating tendencies that were starting to show. "Now get me up and out of this bed. I don't want to be trapped here if I can help it."  
  
"Please, Ne-"  
  
"Don't," he spat, moving to stop them out of instinct than thought through action and he paid for it. By the time the pain had diminished enough for him to think, he was far too exhausted to even breathe. Unfortunately for him, his brain wasn't about to let him suffocate and he doubted the hero would as well.  
  
"Where did you want to go?" they asked softly, their voice curling around him carefully, gently.  
  
He took in a deeper breath in hopes it would push back the exhaustion; it didn't and despite his desire for blissful unconsciousness earlier, he wanted to stay awake. "Just outside. If this is the last night I'm able to even sit up straight without keeling over dead in this cycle, I want to at least see the stars clearly one last time."  
  
"Do you want to sit in a chair or be laid out?"  
  
He went to shrug and regretted it. "Whichever is easiest that won't cause me tremendous pain."  
  
The hero got to their feet, pointing out, "The trip there will be horrendously painful."  
  
He gave a sharp, humorless grin in turn. "I'm counting on it."  
  
It was probably not the wisest thing to say and it wasn't like he cared. He knew it was going to be excruciating and having them point this out was helping no one.  
  
He groggily realized that he had been moved but he didn't remember the trip, nor the hero picking him up. It was probably for the best as the sea of gold and its two blue islands filled his view again till his sight cleared enough to discern the hero's features; it was hard to miss the streaks of **blood** on the hero's chest. "Seems I bled on you."  
  
Was he seeing things or was that really relief in the hero's expression. "You've been doing that quite a bit. I'll have to make sure to bill you for the dry cleaning in a few cycles."  
  
He gave them a flat look. Or at least attempted to. It felt strange on his face. "It's not going to be there in a few cycles, you nitwit."  
  
The hero laughed, settling more next to him.  
  
It was then that he became aware he was lying on his back underneath a never ending sky.  
  
The brightest star he saw wasn't a star at all, but **Mars** reflecting the sun from its position in the solar system. He wondered if it would be just as easy to find in the next cycle.  
  
"You let me know when you want to go back in," the hero informed him, settling back on their hands to watch the sky.  
  
"Ok," he replied as his eyes roamed the rest of the sky he could see.  
  
Slowly it all started to fade and as much as he wanted to fight the impending sleep, he went without a fight.  
  
When he woke next, it was to the sight of some unfamiliar room and the slow reintegration into a new cycle.  
  
His memories started sorting themselves out. It took some time so he remained on his chest in the strange yet familiar bed staring at the black and white image of a **cowboy hat** sitting on a table, the background blurred enough that the people in it were nothing more than rough shapes - the pair dancing alone in the negative space to the upper left of the hat almost becoming a single odd shape because of it. A satin cushion a third of the size of the hat sat on the table under the blurry dancing pair, two wedding bands on display against the small cushion's fabric.


	2. Second Chance

He closed his eyes against the tears that threatened to break him.  
  
The body beside him woke with a gasp. The mattress dipped as they moved abruptly but he refused to look over despite knowing the body next to him - _kissing the planes of that toned stomach, tracing muscled arms and legs and neck and back_ \- was occupied by someone he didn't want to deal with right now.  
  
- _smiling kisses against a butterfly birthmark on the inside of their wrist_ -  
  
He nearly leapt out of his skin when a broad hand wrapped around his shoulder and yanked him back. He hissed some protest only to find himself suddenly pinned under a face that was too familiar despite not having seen it for _countless cycles_.  
  
"Neryk."  
  
As much as he wanted to hiss at that too, to shove them away like he always did and berate them for using that name, he couldn't now. That was his name this cycle; that was the only name they could call him here.  
  
"Is there a reason you're man handling me?" he challenged, the words coming off as bored.  
  
Something flickered in the other's face and it was all he could do to swallow against the lump in his throat now trying to choke him into the next cycle.  
  
"You just died on me," the hero spoke, their voice quaking in a way he hadn't heard in the longest time. "You...I thought...."  
  
The words died in their throat. He didn't react as they pressed their face into his collarbone. Instead, he simply responded, "Kyren, I have died on you how many times before. There is nothing different between them and the last one."  
  
The other jerked back to look down at him, flabbergasted and with eyes brimming with tears. It was an odd sight after _cycles_ of not seeing it. "Yes there is!"  
  
"Anything not influenced by this new cycle?"  
  
The silence that followed was deafening.  
  
He rolled out from under the other and stood up from the bed. "I'm going to go make **coffee**. Do you want any?"  
  
"Sure," was his single word response.  
  
He didn't look back.  
  
Kyren joined him ten minutes later. He had just settled at the table with two steaming mugs of coffee and the sound of a **songbird** out in the foliage beyond closed windows and doors. It looked like it might **rain** despite the sunlight earlier. The other slipped into the chair next to him despite the other's coffee having been placed at the opposite seat. Kyren simply reached across and pulled the mug across the table, the butterfly birthmark on full display with the action.  
  
He buried his face into his mug, ignoring that and the glint of metal on the other hand.  
  
"How did we end up in this mess?"  
  
The words were soft, careful even, but there was a sorrow to them that drew his gaze. Kyren wasn't looking at him, instead intent on some **peanut** retrieved from who knew where that they were rolling about under their finger.  
  
He picked his mug up. The silence stayed for just a moment longer before he finally replied, "By being the complete idiots that we are."  
  
He threw back the rest of his coffee as the other picked up the peanut and took a shot at the sink. It bounced off a tin in the window that looked like a **cassette** tape and ricocheted away from the sink, bouncing on the counter to eventually hit the floor. He didn't see where it stopped.  
  
"Why?" Kyren finally spoke, standing from their chair. "Why did we let ourselves become enemies, fight each other so viciously for cycles, when we had loved so deeply?" He watched them bend over and scoop the peanut up. "Why didn't we stop it ourselves?"  
  
Kyren deposited the peanut in the trash instead of the sink. He didn't have any answers to give.  
  
He stood and took his empty mug to the sink. He took the time to wash it thoroughly only to find arms wrapping around his middle near the end. The other pressed their face against the back of his head, arms tight and secure. He found himself leaning into Kyren's chest despite his desire to keep distance between them.  
  
"We have to talk about this," Kyren muttered into his hair.  
  
He sighed. "I know."  
  
One of Kyren's hands settled on his pectoral, fingers brushing at his collarbone. "Neryk," the other began but it seemed words were not easy today. He expected it would be the same if the situation was reverse. "I...there is so much I have to apologize for."  
  
The laugh that escaped him was weak and far more breathy than it normally would have been but it still startled him. It was enough to loosen his tongue as he responded, "Why are you the one apologizing? I was the villain."  
  
"But you still loved me."  
  
He tensed at that and it was all he could do not to throw the other off of him. He found himself facing the other instead with their arms still around him. "How would you know?" he hissed. There was an edge to it that spoke too much of the raw wound he had forgotten about. That blessed ignorance wasn't coming back and it infuriated him. "I met you head on, did awful things to everyone."  
  
"Because you tried reaching out first."  
  
His eyes closed against that. They were right, of course. He had been the first to offer the olive branch in the beginning even without the memories of where they had started. Even now - reintegrated with the cycle they had originally started in - he could not remember what truly happened to have them jump that first time, nor how they had been pitted against each other. Too many cycles were blending in the beginning that he only had impressions from what he knew were a small handful.  
  
"And I should have listened."  
  
He shook his head, countering, "You truly believed their words. Even if you had listened, you wouldn't have believed any of it, wouldn't have changed."  
  
"I could have tried!"  
  
"And we still would have ended up fighting," he cut through. He shook his head again, gesturing around them. Neither of us remembered this and I can almost guarantee neither of us remember what even led to... _that_."  
  
Kyren flinched and, for the first time since waking up, a numbing sort of betrayal swept over him. "You remember more than I do," he added, his voice quiet, sharp, and all too familiar.  
  
Kyren's gaze was suddenly pleading. "Please, Neryk. Don't do that. Don't become the villain again without letting me even try to help you remember."  
  
He shoved at the other's arms. "What's the point? This cycle will end like all the others and we'll just be right back at it for eternity, forever dancing in the role of protagonist and antagonist."  
  
Kyren's hand wrapped around his wrist stopping him from getting far.  
  
"I don't think there's one after this one."  
  
Ice shot through his veins. He would call it dread but the word didn't seem potent enough. He turned his gaze back onto Kyren and demanded, "What do you mean."  
  
Somewhere he knew the other was right but not knowing why wasn't helping the ice in his veins.  
  
"I...there's too much blending but I know this is it. There's no more cycles, no more livings fake lives if we die now."  
  
He yanked his wrist from the other's grip. He hadn't tried very hard but it still came free. "So, what? You want me to take a leap of faith?"  
  
"Please?"  
  
He blinked, surprised.  
  
Kyren shook their head, offering, "I don't want to go back to the way things had been. I want to try this all again, actually commit to...to us. We married each other all those cycles ago and I want to make it work." A tight, guarded smile was sent his way. "Even with all the fighting, I still fell for you all over again."  
  
He gave a huff of a laugh. "I hope not for my 'evil ways' and abusive charm."  
  
Kyren shook his head again. "It was your mind, your wit. How you stayed consistent through it all. I was ever changing yet you always found me - always knew who I was despite the face I was wearing - and that spoke more to me than any other action you ever did."  
  
He shook his head in turn. "We can't just brush the past aside."  
  
"You're right. But we can at least move on from it. We can learn and grow and never do it again. But it has to be on equal parts. I won't force you back into this."  
  
Neryk found it hard to deny them that. He could try, for their sake, but he knew it wasn't going to be easy.  
  
That potential rain arrived drowning out the silence and matched his trepidation. He stepped forward and captured the hero's lips with his.


	3. Cracking Reality

The hero gave underneath him and kissed him back with none of the reservation that he had. His breath was stolen from him and it was all he could do to keep himself grounded in the present. The kiss broke. His words followed after the other's lips, "I'll give this a try if you're willing to hear me out and actually listen."  
  
This time the hero captured his lips and it really did rip the breath from his lungs. He clung to the other with all his might, straining against the sudden overwhelm.  
  
His chest hurt.  
  
They parted again but where he felt winded and unable to breathe, Kyren was grinning at him. "Absolutely. I will absolutely hear you out."  
  
The hero's lips were on his again and he gave into the bliss.  
  
He pulled away with a gasp when it suddenly felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water on him. But instead of actually moving, there was a sudden wave of vertigo that had his insides rolling. He wasn't given the chance to even think that sensation through before he was rolling onto his side coughing up some sort of liquid. Bile blended with it and he grimaced at the taste as his body rejected something.  
  
A sharp breeze sliced through his attire and he came to the realization he was sopping wet.  
  
His head spun again but for a completely different reason.  
  
With a sharp twist of his torso, he found himself staring at the hero but they were not in the cycle he had just been in. In fact, from their expression, it almost seemed like they hadn't experienced any of that. They were concerned, worried, but there was no panic and what relief was there seemed guarded.  
  
He wasn't sure if he wanted to pass out or be violently ill.  
  
He pressed the heel of a hand against his eye trying to stem off the headache that had roared to life thudding behind his eyes. The sand sticking to his still damp hand was an uncomfortable grit between skin but it was nothing to the chaos that was choking him nearly as thoroughly as the water had.  
  
Had that all just been another dream?  
  
He wasn't sure if he wanted to cry or scream. Whatever was going on, it was slowly breaking him and he wasn't sure he could handle another dream like that. Already he was feeling far too **brittle** to even handle the one he was living.  
  
"Neryk."  
  
He flinched away from the touch on his shoulder even as he snarled, "Don't touch me."  
  
The hero's expression tightened but they remained steadfast as they spoke. "Neryk, you almost asphyxiated for the second time in less than an hour. We need to get you checked over before you keel over dead."  
  
"Why does it matter?" he found himself grounding out. "It's not like it changes anything."  
  
"Do you really want to die again?" He looked over at the hero, their expression still taught from whatever initial thought had gone through their head. "Do you hate all of this that much?"  
  
He couldn't help how sharp the bark of laughter was. He was glad it didn't actually hold any humor; he doubted he even had a sense of humor anymore. "What is there not to hate?" he challenged. "Cycle after cycle we fight: hero against the villain. And cycle after cycle, one of us dies sending us into the next cycle. It's not like it hasn't been that way for _eons_."  
  
"Neryk," they spoke again but he shoving at them. Surprise shot through him along with the pain; it would seem him trying to die twice was not kind on the body.  
  
"Stop calling me that," he spat, left arm curling more towards his chest as it continued to spasm despite how he tried to brush it off. The hero's gaze was on that arm anyways. "We've been through too many cycles as enemies to start caring about each other now."  
  
A different kind of pain shot through his core at his own words. Dream after dream told him he felt otherwise.  
  
"Yet you still care."  
  
He recoiled from it like it was a physical blow. A hiss of air escaped from behind clenched teeth and it was all he could do to not grab for one of the hidden weapons he knew the other had and drive it into flesh where armor was nonexistent. He wasn't happy they were his only options. The hero would have a chance to stop him before he got a solid hold on any weapon. Too bad their **sword** wasn't in its scabbard. Then he might have actually followed through with the intention.  
  
"I stopped caring a long time ago," he countered but it sounded more like a confession to his ears. It made his insides twist uncomfortably. "Just as you've stopped being quite the motivated hero."  
  
Said hero gave a shrug and he was suddenly struck with how _tired_ the hero looked. Even now, the more he looked, the more clear the signs became: dark circles under those blue eyes, skin lacking any luster, of how the armor had looked as if it was on a body just a touch too small and far heavier than the **light** metal it was constructed out of. He had meant the words to be a jab, not a literal description of the hero. His gaze narrowed as he frowned at the hero. "Why are you neglecting yourself?"  
  
The hero offered him a tight smile. "Can't seem to get any sort of decent sleep. Any time I close my eyes to do so, the dreams that follow are torturous."  
  
"Like good cycles ending horribly wrong," he muttered.  
  
The hero nodded despite his unintended comment. "Or turning into fake cycles. At first they had been our typical 'good concurring evil' repeats. They were reflections of my desire to win in those cycles. But now..." The hero's gaze wandered back towards the lake it felt like he hadn't seen in ages. The crescent moon was still overhead bright as ever beside Venus. "Now they're strange and twists and so bitter sweet that it hurts. Cycles of us living domestic lives together, happy, content....confessions gone right and lives lived on after that. But so many end with one of us dying at the twisted hand of the other and I can't bring myself to want to live through those again and again."  
  
He didn't realize he was running his hand through his hair till he felt the sand peppering the back of his neck, his face, and the top of his head as it was brushed free by the gesture. A lot of it stayed in his hair even after his attempts of brushing it all away. "How regular are those kind now?"  
  
"Almost constant," the hero offered, now sounding as tired as they looked. Their gaze turned to him again with a haunted edge to it. "Despite how much I can't bare to watch us turn on each other in the end, it's the ones where we're happy together that I wake up from that I fear the most."  
  
He rubbed at his face again. The grit of sand was missing. "Why are these happening?"  
  
There was a pause before they spoke but he was certain they has shrugged. "Maybe we've reached the breaking point, as if we were never made to live cycle after cycle with so many memories."  
  
"So, what? We look for some sort of eternal **dragon** to grant our wish to end these cycles?" he challenged, the thought of all of this ending scaring him more than he had expected. "What if this is all life is? Cycle after cycle of the same thing, of always going up against each other as the hero and the villain?"  
  
"Then we make the best of it," the hero offered. There was no real conviction behind their words. Even they thought it was a weak counter.


	4. Shattered Dreams

It was a heavy sound, one that made him yearn for better things, for brighter things, but as much as it was a disheartening sound, it was just as beautiful and he found himself losing awareness of the land around him.  
  
“You hear it too?”  
  
He looked over, finding he couldn’t remember closing his eyes. Standing a few paces off panting was the hero. There was a wild look to their eyes edged in desperation.  
  
“What is it?” he asked, though he felt he should know the answer.  
  
The hero shook their head. “The others can’t hear it. I saw you stop and thought that maybe you could.”  
  
He frowned and turned his attention back towards the source of the music. He couldn’t see it but he was certain he was looking in the right direction. “Magic, then?”  
  
“That’s only affecting us?” the hero challenged, though it was more of a desperate question than confrontational. “That hasn’t happened before. We’ve never been separate enough from the cycle to be picked out like that.”  
  
He shook his head. “What else could it be? There’s no tech in this cycle and there certainly isn’t a cello that has been made that can be loud enough to not even see it across the open plains.”  
  
The hero looked out over the expanse as he had and he saw the despair grow. He took a step towards them. “Kyren.” Their gaze snapped to him. “Go back. Stay with your companions. If it’s anything dangerous, I’ll deal with it.”  
  
“Neryk–”  
  
He cut them off. “Don’t make this more difficult than it has to be. Get going. And don’t look back.”  
  
The hero took a step back towards their companions but he watched as determination settled into their expression. “No. If you’re going to go figure out what it is, then I’m going with you.”  
  
He scoffed, ignoring the part of him that was grateful for the company. “Do what you want then. Don’t say I didn’t warn you if you get yourself killed.”  
  
There was no telling how far out the sound’s source was but the best way to find out was to start walking. The hero fell into step beside him and for a moment he expected it to be a tense silence. Instead, there was a sense of comfort as they walked beside him, their footfall routinely synced with his only to fall into a counter rhythm before syncing back up.  
  
The music never got louder.  
  
“How long do you think we’ve been walking?” the hero asked quite some time later. He was surprised it had taken them this long to break the silence. But, then, it wasn’t like there had been much to talk about before then.  
  
“I don’t know.” He searched out the moon only to find clouds had moved in. He couldn’t even remember where it had been in the sky to begin with. It coaxed a **frown** onto his face. “An hour, maybe? Maybe less?”  
  
The hero hummed but said nothing more. He looked to them, frowning. “Why are you walking with me?”  
  
They looked at him. “You were the only one to hear the music too.”  
  
He shook his head. He realized he was doing that quite a bit. “No, why aren’t you dragging your companions with? Why are you choosing to walk with me and only me?”  
  
Something hard crossed the hero’s expression. “They wouldn’t come with.”  
  
His eyes widened at that. “They didn’t believe you?”  
  
The hero shook their head. “No matter how many different ways I tried to get them to help me find the sound, they wouldn’t have anything to do with it. It got to the point that they started accusing you of tainting me in some way.” The hero raised their chin, expression set. “So, I told them I thought better of them and left them where they stood.”  
  
“And none of them followed?”  
  
That cut through the bravado the hero was showcasing. “Yeah. None of them followed.” They shrugged. “Can you blame them? I was starting to sound crazy even to myself.”  
  
He shook his head. “That doesn’t excuse their disloyalty. I thought they would follow you anywhere.”  
  
“Just not after some sound they can’t hear.”  
  
He found no words to offer in turn. Looking forward again, he let the silence settle over them. Only the cello’s beautiful, morose song and the sound of their feet on the ground kept it from being absolute.  
  
There was a thud from behind his right side.  
  
He turned to look.  
  
It took far too long for his brain to register that the hero had collapsed.  
  
“Kyren!” he called, running over. He grabbed them and rolled them over. He pressed his ear to their chest as he hovered his hand over their nose and mouth. He could still hear a pulse and the soft puffs against his hand told him they were still breathing. The relief wasn’t given a chance to grow as he reached over and started to try and shake them awake. “Kyren. Wake up. Come on, wake up, you idiotic hero.”  
  
Nothing.  
  
It didn’t matter what he tried to do, he couldn’t wake them up.  
  
Exhaustion washed over him and he suddenly found it very difficult to keep his eyes open as the cello music sounded like it was all around him. He fought against the encroaching darkness and tried to keep his eyes open but he wasn’t given much ground to fight on and no matter how hard he fought what was becoming an inevitable sleep, the last thing he took in was his head making its way to the hero’s chest, eyes on their face. Their heartbeat blended with the music from the cello that pulled him into the sudden sleep.  
  
For a moment that seemed long and languid, all he knew was darkness. No thoughts intruded, no fears, nothing but a sense of peace. Slowly, though, he started hearing thoughts. There were whispers in his mind - some that sounded like his voice, some that did not - that spoke of many things he did not retain. It was like each piece was a **secret** he was supposed to know. There were voices he had never heard before speaking, talking over him, and one voice that cut through the unfamiliar that jolted him awake.  
  
He tried to sit upright but hands were upon him in an instant and it was instinct that had him going for a **knife** that wasn't there. He fought them off as best he could, the world he was seeing not making any sense in his brain yet.  
  
"Neryk! Calm down! You're safe now!"  
  
He froze, seeking out the voice demanding him to stop. He found the voice and didn't recognize the face. He wasn't even sure if he recognized the voice despite every cell of his being screaming that it knew them.  
  
It must have shown on his face because the stranger undid the buttons and zippers of several outer layers till they were able to pull at the collar of their undershirt exposing a complex tattoo with an **owl** as a prominent feature. He blinked at it as the stranger spoke carefully, "You made this for me. Remember? You would tease me about my name cuz it made you think of the owl."  
  
He frowned, looking up at the stranger's face. "Pygmy-owl?"  
  
The stranger sent him a tight smile. "Remember, Ner?"  
  
Slowly things started trickling into his mind. It was so different compared when he had to adapt to cycles. He pressed the heel of his hand into an eye trying to stem off the growing headache. "I...maybe?" He made a noise. "Things aren't making sense."  
  
"Take your time," the stranger gently urged.  
  
"Can it, Pygmyonus," a different stranger spat. "We need him to tell us what happened. Did he manage to defeat X-Born?"  
  
There was nothing but static after that.  
  
It was like the name had flipped a switch in his head and he suddenly remembered _everything_ and it made him sick. But there were the cycles he had lived, the cycles they had lived together, and he found himself scrambling off the table and through the crowd, eyes searching for the body he knew was there somewhere, of the one everyone else hated and he should hate.  
  
He found them still in their capsule. He ran over and quickly released the hatch. There was a hiss before the glass piece hinged upwards opening the capsule and allowing him access to the one he shouldn't care for.  
  
There was a shuddering breath of air that made the chest expand, eyes fluttering open with the motion. He gripped the closest hand and rubbed gently at their **knuckles**. Slowly, those eyes focused on him and what had happened before those cycles finally cleared itself out. He should be mad that they had made him the villain.  
  
He let out a shuddering breath. He swallowed thickly and spoke the only thing he could say.  
  
"Kyren."


End file.
